From fear to compassion: My early days at SMHS Hospital Srinagar

An Emerging Journey into the World of Healthcare

Wani Arafat

On the first day of April 2026, I entered SMHS Hospital, Srinagar, not merely as a student but as someone stepping into a profession that demands patience, compassion, and responsibility. A quiet mix of fear and excitement stayed within me. The long corridors, the steady movement of staff, and the silent pain on patients’ faces made me realize that this was not just a hospital, but a place where life is tested and hope is restored.

My posting began in Ward 5 of the Medicine Department, where I met the nursing staff, including Bilal Sir and Rozy Ma’am, whose calm and welcoming nature eased my nervousness. I also observed my seniors, Imtiyaz Sir and Seerat Ma’am, who were skilled, kind, and humble. Alongside my fellow students—Yasir, Owais, and Aiman—I began this journey with hope, though uncertainty remained.

On the very first day, our Clinical In-charge, Sakia Ma’am, came and asked us questions. It was not easy; she was assessing both our knowledge and confidence. She said something that stayed with me: “Observation is half learning.” At that time, I did not fully understand it. We were told to maintain a clinical diary, and I slowly started writing in it. However, my time in the ward initially felt limited. Most of the work involved medication rounds, and with many students present, opportunities to perform tasks were few. I began to feel as if I was just coming, observing, and returning without much learning. At times, I even questioned whether this was useful for me.

On the third day, an incident changed everything. While breaking an ampoule, it slipped, and a sharp piece pierced my thumb, causing heavy bleeding. I had done it before, but this time it went wrong. I was taken to the Emergency Department, where I was advised stitches but opted for dressing. What stayed with me was not the pain, but the care. Tabasum Ma’am showed deep concern, administered an injection herself, and insisted that I take two days of rest due to blood loss. Her kindness showed me that healthcare is not only about treatment but also about humanity.

After taking permission, I stayed home for two days, recovering and reflecting. I realized that if I truly wanted to learn, I needed to take initiative.

When I returned, I decided to move to the Emergency Department. With the help of my friend Junaid Shafi from GMC Srinagar, I shifted there. He personally accompanied me and stayed with me for hours on my first day. The environment there was active, demanding, and full of learning.

It was here that I met Navi Ma’am and Rafiya Ma’am. At first, I thought they were senior students because of their friendly nature, but later I realized they were staff members. I even told Navi Ma’am that she felt like one of us. When she noticed my hands still marked with blood, she said with concern, “Zan chuth kath moormut,” reflecting her attentiveness.

Apart from being skilled, Navi Ma’am and Rafiya Ma’am stood out for their humanity. They taught me patiently, ensured I understood every aspect of the procedures, and never allowed me to feel intimidated. My confidence grew because of them. I remember how Rafiya Ma’am once introduced me to another staff member by saying, “This is my cousin”—a small gesture that made me feel valued. In their presence, I never feared mistakes because I knew I would be guided with kindness.

In the Emergency Department, everything began to feel real. I started spending more time there—sometimes staying until evening, sometimes returning early in the morning. Within ten days, I learned more than before. I began to understand patient care practically. I observed how medicines are administered—oral, IV, and IM. I learned to set IV lines, manage drips, insert cannulas, administer glucose, and improve my blood sampling skills. Gradually, my confidence increased. I also understood the importance of hygiene, infection control, and communication. Speaking respectfully with patients and their families matters greatly.

One night, I remained in the Emergency Ward from 10 p.m. until 2 a.m. During this time, an accident occurred due to the negligence of a patient’s attendant, resulting in a needle-prick injury to me. Navi Ma’am and Rafiya Ma’am became extremely concerned. They immediately arranged for the patient’s blood sample to be tested. Fortunately, the result was negative, but it was a very stressful experience. I remain deeply grateful for the care and responsibility they showed, even consulting a doctor on my behalf.

They also tried to arrange a room for me to rest, but I managed with the help of friends in the area who accommodated me. I rested for a few hours and then resumed my duty.

Later, some students questioned my presence in the Emergency Ward, as it was not part of my official posting. This came to the notice of the clinical in-charge, who messaged that I would be marked absent for seven days. It was disheartening, as my only intention was to learn.

During this time, I also began to feel a sense of responsibility. Many patients and attendants started addressing me as “Sir.” It felt encouraging, but it also made me more conscious of my actions, as people were placing their trust in me.

On another day, while visiting my ward, the father of Member of Parliament Engineer Rashid was admitted. His brother, an MLA, and other family members were present. I had the opportunity to draw a blood sample from him, which gave me satisfaction as I applied what I had learned.

One of the strongest realizations during this journey was the emotional connection with patients. Many times, I felt as though they were my own elders. This feeling changed my perspective. I stopped seeing them as mere cases and began caring naturally. Every patient carries a story, pain, and struggle. I realized that dignity and respect matter as much as treatment. This assured me that I am in the right field—I do not just want skills; I want to be truly useful to people.

The encouragement of senior students like Rahil Sir and Shakir Sir also contributed to my growth. They guided me and shared knowledge, helping me understand that healthcare education is a collective effort. Looking back, even my frustrations in Ward 5 proved beneficial—they pushed me to take initiative.

I also extended an apology to the clinical in-charge, Saika Ma’am. Although other students were present, I felt I was treated more strictly, which affected me. It made me reflect on the environment I belong to.

Despite everything, I acknowledge that the lessons I gained in the Emergency Department are invaluable—experiences I might not have gained elsewhere. They strengthened my patience, courage, and passion for learning.

I did not enter nursing with grand ambitions. My goal was simple—to help people. But now, that simple thought has evolved into a stronger commitment. I genuinely want to serve with honesty and compassion.

To every nursing student, I would say: do not rush. First observe, then understand. Confidence will come gradually. Every patient teaches something. If your intention is sincere, growth will follow naturally.

This journey has just begun, but I have already learned that true success in healthcare is not only about skill—it is about remaining human, kind, and present for people when they need you most.